


What it Means to be a Monster

by Fluffifullness



Category: Durarara!!
Genre: Durarara!! Kink Meme, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Sibling Incest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-09
Updated: 2013-05-09
Packaged: 2017-12-10 22:41:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/791019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fluffifullness/pseuds/Fluffifullness
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He stops when his brother glances up at him – eyes bright, cheeks flushed even as his mouth remains set in a colorlessly straight line. He looks hungry, lonely, <em>beautiful</em> –</p><p>– and Shizuo melts into hands on skin, thrumming nerves, heat building under delicate fingers and clothes discarded piece by piece to form a neat pile beside them on the bare tatami.</p>
            </blockquote>





	What it Means to be a Monster

**Author's Note:**

> You can find the original kink meme request [ here](http://drrrkink.livejournal.com/6253.html?thread=22812013#t22812013).

Shizuo is a monster. He was a monster when he was a child, too, and he knows damn well that he could have done so much to change that. He knows that he could have seen someone, downed pills or thought things through or – he doesn’t know – just _something._ He was born strong, after all, but he wasn’t born a beast.

He accomplished _that_ all on his own.

He’s scared almost everyone around him for as long as he can remember. Everyone at school – teachers, students, and the tired old Raijin nurse who’d so often been obligated to treat all of his and Izaya’s post-fight injuries. (Not to mention the bouts they’d always started right there in the infirmary, the many other delinquent students who wound up bruised and sometimes bleeding – and Shizuo’s fairly certain that the woman no longer works at the school now.)

Numerous employers, gang members – hell, people he’s never even met go to great lengths to steer clear of him.

And, sure, his mood is more consistently dark these days. Izaya’s always about, after all, and the blonde has to deal with daily onslaughts of idiots who can’t seem to do anything but spout nonsense and shove the blame onto anyone and anything that isn’t _themselves_.

But other things have changed, as well, and Shizuo’s learned to remind himself that nothing is ever all bad. Celty, Shinra, Tom-san and Kadota. Simon, even. He’s not alone – never was, but before he only had Kasuka. He had to rely so much on his little brother, and he’s not sure even now whether the guy has ever thought of him as a burden, a disappointment.

It’s part of what bothers him every waking minute – the being a monster, the being feared and hated and knowing that it’s his fault he turned out this way.

The letting Kasuka down.

 

~

 

“You’ve already had too much, nii-san,” Kasuka comments blandly as his brother reaches clumsily for the bottle of sweet sake that rests on the table before them. Shizuo’s efforts go unrewarded, anyway, because the thing’s already empty – not a drop left, and he looks almost alarmingly disappointed by this discovery.

“Should’ve bought more,” the blonde grumbles as he slumps back onto an array of mismatched cushions and blankets worn at the edges. He looks tired, Kasuka thinks, but that’s not all. His cheeks are faintly flushed, his lips soft and wet and a single grain of rice clinging to his right cheek.

The brunette slides close enough to reach forward and remove that little bit of food. Shizuo barely notices, his one hand lying limp by his head and the other held just as tranquilly to his stomach.

“It’s enough,” Kasuka repeats. A shy grin tugs at the corners of Shizuo’s – _tempting, so tempting_ – lips, but he says nothing in response. “Honestly, nii-san,” Kasuka scolds – mostly to fill the silence – “you’re just like a kid.”

“Kids can’t drink,” Shizuo almost-slurs. “Tastes kinda weird, anyway…”

An understated smile just manages to reach Kasuka’s outward expression as he cuddles up beside the blonde. The room is quiet in the moments following Shizuo’s comment – nothing but the light clicking of the oven cooling down in the next room, the hum of a space heater laboring in one corner of Shizuo’s small-but-cozy apartment.

Kasuka lets his fingers graze the center of Shizuo’s chest as it rises and then falls again. He can feel his brother’s heart beating through the thin fabric of his white dress shirt – partially unbuttoned after a long day at work – and every inch of him radiates a gentle but noticeable warmth.

Shizuo winces slightly as the younger man’s fingers move up and over slightly to trace the curve of his collarbone. “Sorry,” he explains. “Kinda fell earlier…”

“Orihara Izaya?” A few light bruises wouldn’t be the worst that Shizuo’s suffered thanks to the informant, anyway, and the thought sends little nervous shivers running up and down Kasuka’s spine. He hates the trouble that Shizuo gets into – understanding, of course, that he’s not likely to be seriously hurt but always worrying for him nevertheless.

Shizuo grunts an irritated _yes_ before rolling over to face his brother directly. “What’s up…? Been a while since we were this close.”

Physically, he means, but the same could be said of the words they exchange, the faint-but-there emotional connection and the thoughts growing in continued isolation.

It’s almost worse with Shizuo staring straight at him, hazel-tinted eyes wide and dazedly inebriated. Kasuka can feel the blonde’s warm, faintly damp breath on his face, the light tickle of too-sweet alcohol and the thrum of his own blood pulsing through his veins.

He feels too alive, too impulsive, and if the situation were any different he’d back away right now.

But he’s drunk. Shizuo’s drunk. That means that there’s an excuse, a variable to blame for everything that comes next.

He asks his older brother for a favor.

 

~

 

Shizuo doesn’t know how to react at first. This is his brother, after all, little Kasuka with his pervasive aloofness, his soft-spoken rationality. His mind is abuzz already, though, and Kasuka leans in immediately to press a close-mouthed kiss to his lips.

“Please don’t worry, nii-san,” he pleads as his hands wander down to tug at Shizuo’s belt.

“Kasuka, I can’t – this is – ”

He stops when his brother glances up at him – eyes bright, cheeks flushed even as his mouth remains set in a colorlessly straight line. He looks hungry, lonely, _beautiful_ –

– and Shizuo melts into hands on skin, thrumming nerves, heat building under delicate fingers and clothes discarded piece by piece to form a neat pile beside them on the bare tatami.

 

~

 

“Kasuka,” he murmurs as a brief spell of still silence falls upon the two men and the space that surrounds them. Their muffled panting, wide-eyed realization that there’s nowhere to go from here but all the way.

And so the name sounds very different in this context – even _more_ the name of Shizuo’s brother, his blood, the little boy who used to follow him everywhere so many years ago. Someone who absolutely does not belong in this context – naked, on top of Shizuo with a now-reassuring smile playing upon his lips. Not Hanejima Yuuhei, not a famed actor or kind-of-almost-and-very-regrettably estranged family member but _Kasuka._

The one who’s been there for him all along, the one for whom he’d do anything, _anything_ – and he wants to, he does, as terrible as that probably is.

Kasuka’s hands find his half-hard erection, stroke it experimentally and then close all about the shaft as Shizuo moans softly into the back of his hand. He whispers the other’s name again, and his own hands tug at something immaterial – every groan and whimper that he bites back and buries behind breathless sighs and that hand, those _fingers._

“Nii-san,” Kasuka breathes. His left hand continues to coax reflexive jerks and aching moans from the elder Heiwajima as his right hand trails up and down the blonde’s too-sensitive inner thighs. He moves up, traces the tense muscles of his abdomen and then tweaks the hardening nipples even higher up.

“Nn – Kasuka, what – ”

He can’t say it. What are you waiting for. What are we doing. Are we really going all the way – and can’t we _please?_

Kasuka nods. “Wait,” he instructs, and his hands leave Shizuo all at once as he sways unsteadily to his feet. Finds the bag he brought over to his brother’s place, the one with the spare change of clothes and the little unopened tube of lubricant…

(And Shizuo moans softly in the vacuum of no hands on his throbbing extremities, skin laced with lightning – )

“I’m sorry,” Shizuo mumbles awkwardly as his brother returns to smooth stray bits of blonde away from his sweat-slick forehead. “For – making you do – everything…” He’s sprawled before Kasuka, his legs wide, cock red and swollen and every inch sweat-slicked and self-conscious.

Kasuka smiles in the midst of an increasing high. “It’s okay. I asked you to.”

 

~

 

Their rhythm is easily synchronized, moans no longer devoured by shame and hands and teeth – Shizuo’s soft lips parted, chocolate brown eyes half-lidded and almost unthinking as he struggles only to limit the strength of his thrusts to match Kasuka’s.

How nice it would be to torture themselves with slowness, and Kasuka even breaks the tempo to _just barely_ brush the tight bundle of nerves and Shizuo is still tight – too tight, maybe, but he doesn’t seem to register the pain – all about his length. The blonde has to catch his breath as a sharp rush of eager sensation twines itself all about his consciousness, then, but that’s it. Neither of them can wait longer – because things like this, _wrong_ things like this don’t last long.

Lingering is dangerous.

Shizuo, especially, knows – and Kasuka can see it in the tears that stand at the corners of his crashing-shut eyes as his shuddering walls tighten suddenly, as his voice rises in pitch and volume and desperate gasps and nonsensical syllables. Words strung together –

– _Kasuka please more it feels good so – I’m sorry, I’m so –_

“Don’t be,” Kasuka whispers breathlessly.

The extra-warm, sticky and unfamiliar sensation of Kasuka’s hands gripping his hips, his own hands twisting at the corners of cushions and plush fabric – those little things and the look on the brunette’s face, the light flush and his breathing ragged despite what remains of his outward composure –

– it’s what Shizuo focuses on as he comes in hot jets and spasming muscles to soak his own stomach. As Kasuka comes not far behind and deep inside – Shizuo fuller and fuller and leaking as they lie panting in the afterglow, lips coming together in a silent exchange –

– wrapped up in each other’s arms, a gentle embrace and the scent of cigarettes, sweat and alcohol heavy in the air.

 

~

 

“Oh,” Kasuka breathes comprehendingly the next morning. Shizuo’s eyes are downcast, his brow furrowed uncomfortably, anxiously – as if he’s truly failed somehow, as if he’s done his brother a great and terrible disservice. “Nii-san, I’ve never felt that way.”

“We were drunk,” Shizuo mutters self-deprecatingly. “I should’ve known better.”

Known better than the inevitable bruises, he means, better than the _bad_ that was last night and definitely – _definitely_ – better than the total euphoria that came with it.

Kasuka stops Shizuo with a hand on his shoulder. His expression is, for once, verging on angry. “You’ve never once let me down, nii-san.”

Shizuo stares at the floor as he shakes his head and denies it softly. He’s felt the way he does for such a long time, Kasuka knows, and the young actor is determined to break that habit sooner rather than later.

He presses another kiss to Shizuo’s lips and then offers up one of his warmest, barely-there smiles when the blonde’s gaze shoots back up to focus dimly on his brother’s face.

_The only thing I’ve always felt for you is what happened last night._

Or maybe not, Kasuka muses, but it’s always been a kind of love and maybe it’s wrong for most people –

– but the Heiwajima brothers have never been quite like most people.


End file.
